Through a Window
by RebelzHeart
Summary: Tony hadn't even finished his breakfast when Spider-man appears.
1. Chapter 1

Tony hadn't even started eating breakfast when Spider-man appeared on the window sill.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter's voice was slightly worried as he rapped lightly on the window. "I, um, might have a problem. Can you help? I mean, I kind of need your help, but you know, if you can't help, that's cool, too. I mean, it's not exactly cool, because I kind of have an issue here, which is why I'm here, I mean, that's why I'm at your place, I'm at your window because I can't go through the front, I mean I _can_ , but..."

"Shut up, kid." Fondness lined Tony's voice as he lifted the window open. "What happened?"

"Um, I'm not all that sure." Peter looked down and pressed two fingers against the side of his rib cage. "I, um, think that I got stabbed, but I'm not really sure. I could be shot. But I think I'm stabbed. I mean, they feel different. Pain is the same, but, like, the type of pain. Like when you're stabbed, it's shaped differently, so you can feel the shape. I mean, it's all kind of blurry, but..."

"But you're injured." Tony cut Peter off with a roll of his eyes. "That's the whole point, right?"

Peter bobbed his head in a nod. "My suit's red, so it was kind of hard to tell if it was bruised or bleeding." He admitted. "But now I'm sure that I'm bleeding."

"Bleeding all over my expensive, one of a kind Persian carpet." Tony agreed. "Hurry up and lie down on the couch, if you faint I'd rather not have to drag you to it."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark." Tony didn't have to see Peter's face to know that he was flushing, but he still reached over and gestured at Peter's face. Peter pulled off his mask.

Overall, his face looked pretty good. No cuts, and only one bruise as far as Tony could tell. "How many times have I told you to call me Tony?" Tony demanded.

Peter offered Tony a roguish grin, and replied, "The same amount of times that I've called you Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark."

"Then why won't you do it?" Tony demanded.

"The same reason that Pepper doesn't listen to you when you talk." Peter replied airily. "Common sense."

"What common sense?" Tony demanded.

"I know that you couldn't possibly know what it is, since you've never had it." Peter replied, "But it's very useful in life."

Tony stuck out his tongue, and Peter smiled. "Let's work on getting you treated." Tony muttered.

"Avoiding the subject?" Peter asked teasingly.

"You wish, brat." Tony grumbled. "Besides, what part of this 'common sense' of yours tells you that you should call me Mr. Stark?"

"It's only polite." Peter replied, "Etiquette is yet another thing that you don't have."

"I can't argue with that." Tony admitted. "So, you think that you're stabbed?"

Peter smiled, "Going senile, Mr. Stark?" He teased.

"We're going to pretend that you didn't say that." Tony declared. "Take off your shirt."

Peter flushed. "You can just cut the suit."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I'm paying for repairs." He replied. "What are you, a girl? It's not that embarrassing."

"It's not that," Peter replied, "It's just that you might..." He shrugged, and ducked his head down.

"Might what?" Tony demanded. "What, you think that I'm going to make fun of you just because you don't have a six pack?"

Peter scowled, and pulled off his shirt. "Well, maybe not _now_ , but you're definitely going to use it for ammo later."

Tony pressed a hand against his chest, his lower lip stuck out in a childish pout. "I would never!" He exclaimed. "Well... you know me well."

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "How bad is it?" He asked, turning to the side.

Tony crouched down to peer at the knife wound, trying to ignore the scars littering Peter's torso. He had always known that Peter got beat up, and seeing the proof shouldn't have been so bad. (He ignored the whisper of, _He's just a kid..._ , ringing through his head.) "Might require stitches." He admitted.

Peter sighed and poked at it slightly. "It ought to heal sooner than that. It's not that deep."

"It's pretty bad." Tony replied. "I think that you're just in shock."

He tried to ignore the fact that Peter had probably been through much worse than this, and hadn't gone through shock even when he had been shot five times.

"I'm not in shock." Peter insisted. "I have faster healing, remember?"

"Right." Tony muttered. "But we still need to help it for now."

At Peter's grumble, he asked if Peter wanted some anesthetic.

"No, I'm fine." Peter sighed.

"Alright." Tony shrugged, "I'm going to call a doctor, okay?'

Peter's brow furrowed. "Are you crazy?" He demanded. "You can't call a doctor, they'll ask questions and..."

"This one will keep your secret." Tony promised.

"You could at least ask for permission." Peter sulked.

"I already have it." Tony replied. "Are you seriously going to say no?"

"...No." Peter admitted. "But still, what if I said no?"

"I already know that you won't." Tony shrugged. "So why bother asking when I already know the answer?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "You're infuriating." He mumbled.

Tony offered Peter a mischievous smirk in response. "I know."

* * *

Dr. Banner was a nice man, with a gentle demeanor and a witty tongue.

Peter could see why Tony liked him, though Bruce was much more reserved than Tony, and seemed to have more common sense than all the rest of the Avengers combined (except maybe the Black Widow).

"Why do you guys always insist on getting injured?" Bruce sighed. "I'll be okay, it's no big deal, it's just a few thugs..." He glared at Tony. "And how old is this kid? You're seriously _encouraging_ him to get into these fights?"

"I'm still here, you know." Peter sulked.

Bruce pursed his lips together. "Sorry." He sighed, "Force of habit. But still, aren't you a little young to be acting like this?"

Peter crossed his arms. "If I knew that I'd be getting a lecture, I wouldn't have let you call the doctor." He informed Tony.

"It's not _the_ doctor, it's just Bruce." Tony replied flippantly. "I don't know the doctor."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to ignore that." He muttered. "You're already confusing enough without your movie references."

"Doctor Who." Peter informed Bruce. "A _must_ watch. One of the Big Three."

"I don't want to know." Bruce replied. "I'm going to stick the needle in now. Are you prepared?"

"I can handle it." Peter replied.

"Right." Bruce glanced at Tony. "You're not going to dramatically re-enact some famous death, are you?"

Peter pressed a hand against his chest, feigning offense. "How little you think of me!" He gasped dramatically. "And to think, I trusted you."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Well, that was a better reaction than I expected." He admitted.

"Really?" Peter turned to Tony and pointed a finger at him with the declaration of, "You broke him!"

"I didn't _break_ him!" Tony sulked. "He's just cool like that."

"There is _nobody_ as cool as that." Peter shook his head.

Bruce offered Peter a wry smile. "I'm quoting that every time that Tony says I'm lame." He informed Peter, before turning to Tony. "And I'll going to hold this over you for as long as I can."

Peter smiled triumphantly at Tony. "I'm going to be quoted!"

Tony stuck his tongue out. "Told you he was cool!" He replied, equally triumphant.

It was then that Bruce decided the shove the needle into Peter's side.

In the end, Tony never did get to eat his breakfast.

 **A/N:** I know, lame ending. I might continue this, sort of just interactions between Bruce, Peter and Tony. But I don't know if I can... there's just too much sass between the three of them. (Bruce is typically portrayed as gentle, but he's actually quite witty if you watch the movies.) I'm not very witty or sassy, so...


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, the three of them found themselves in a pancake diner for brunch.

"Your treat." Peter told Tony, feet tucked onto the edge of his seat, pressing a pencil to his chin as he finished off his math homework.

"Why mines?" Tony demanded, sticking out his lower lip into a faux pout as he straightened from his half sprawled position on their table. "You and your dumb knife wound made me miss breakfast, if it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be here."

Peter tossed Bruce a light smirk, head tilted back, fingers idly running along the edge of his paper. "Your welcome." He said, splaying out his arms as he dipped into a dramatic bow. "Yes, 'twas my brilliance that got you this wonderful pancake breakfast."

Bruce smiled as he stirred his milkshake, picking the leaves off of the strawberry that was placed on the edge of the glass. "This place is quite nice." He mused. "Quite old fashioned, though. How did you manage to find a place like this?"

Peter grinned as he shoved his math homework back into his binder and pulled out his science. "I found it while I was looking for a job."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "What about your extracurricular activities?" He asked, "Did that ever interfere?"

"All the time." Peter leaned back, "That's why I got fired. The manager let me stay on for a while, even though I didn't show up half the time." He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck sheepishly, eyes lowered. "Couldn't keep it in the end, of course. I kept running off in the middle of the job, missing shifts... and I was never much good at making it up to them... but the manager's a nice guy. He tried to give me a chance."

Bruce leaned forwards, a slight frown tugging at the edges of his lips. "Why are you doing this, Peter?" He asked quietly. "Doing what you do... why don't you just leave that to us? You're still a kid, still got a life, you don't have to..."

"I do." Peter cut in.

Bruce tilted his head to the side, pressing his chin into his hands, both eyebrows raising up.

Peter flushed, lowering his eyes as he fiddled nervously with the edge of his sleeve. "I... I have to. Doing what I do... it's important. I have to do it."

For a moment, Bruce looked as though he wanted to keep talking, but his expression softened, and he murmured, "I understand."

"I mean, I get that there are other competent people, and I totally respect that, but at the same time... wait, you understand?" Peter's head snapped up, his tense shoulders loosening as his fingers faltered and pulled away from his wrists. "I mean, yeah, of course you understand." He bit his lower lip, feet shifting across the floor. "...what do you understand?"

"That you've got a serious hero complex." Tony declared, his grin widening when Peter flushed.

"That you feel responsible." Bruce corrected Tony, lightly tapping his fingers against the table in a soothing _ta-thump, ta-thump, ta-thump_. "I get it. You feel like when bad things happen, it's your fault. But it's not."

"It _is,"_ Peter shook his head, muscles turning stiff and rigid as he muttered, "When you have these abilities, when you can do what I can do... if you don't do anything, if you let something bad happen, it's because you didn't... because you didn't do what you should have."

Bruce took a sip from his smoothie, and then took a piece of Tony's bacon. "Tony's right." He rolled his eyes. "You do have a hero complex. If something bad happens around you, it's because you couldn't do anything. Not because you skirted your duty, but because you're a human being."

Peter's eyes drifted to the briefcase next to Tony, and then to Bruce's eyes, then he answered quietly, "None of us are human."

Tony's jaw tightened, and he groused, "Shut up, kid. I didn't come here for this gooey chick flick moment, I came for breakfast."

"It's not a chick flick moment." Peter replied as he slipped his homework back into his bag and stood up. "It's the truth." He tossed his bag at Tony and his fingers slid into his pocket. "I'll be right back."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to..."

The edges of Peter's lips turned up into a crooked smirk. "Five minutes." He replied confidently. "Call the cops."

* * *

"That wasn't five minutes." Bruce noted as he finished off Tony's bacon. "That was 2 minutes and 52 seconds."

Peter tossed Tony a superior smirk, "Told you it would be fine."

"I would have finished it faster." Tony stuck out his tongue childishly.

Peter took a piece of Tony's eggs. "No way, I was the coolest."

Watching them argue who was better... Iron Man and Spider-man... made Bruce wonder what Peter would have been like if he wasn't Spider-man.

 _He wouldn't be like this._ Bruce reflected. Spider-man was a part of Peter, maybe even more than Iron Man was a part of Tony.

For some reason, the thought made his stomach churn.

He wondered if the Other Guy was the same for him.

Just as much a part of him.

Suddenly, he didn't feel all that hungry anymore.

A hand slipped into his, and he glanced up at Peter. "Sorry," Peter offered Bruce another crooked, sideways smile. "You feeling alright? You seem pale."

"Yeah," Bruce nodded, "I'm fine."

Peter flushed, and quickly pulled his hand out of Bruce's. "Sorry, that was weird. I, just, um, felt weird."

"Falling in love, Petey?" Tony teased.

"Not with you," Peter retorted, voice childish and high, the only sign of his discomfort found in his hunched shoulders and the red refusing to leave his cheeks. He glanced at Bruce, uncertain and concerned. "...You sure you're fine?" He asked quietly.

Bruce nodded as he raised his glass to his lips. "I'm fine." He mumbled.

He spent the rest of the time thinking of how easy it would be to hide in a city as big as this.

Then he wondered how easy it would be to destroy it.

 **A/N:** Haha, you thought this was complete, didn't you? Well... it's not! Why? Because I'm a stupid procrastinating idiot who would rather write than deal with life... How are you guys doing? Life treating you okay?


End file.
